Jonny McCambridge: A (late) Halloween horror story….Jonny and the giant pumpkin

Now, however, as I circle the imposing orange winter squash resting on the table, the diminutive tool looks feeble.

I use a black marker to draw an outline of where I want to cut. I take a deep breath and then plunge the knife into the tough and weathered hide. It goes in just a little bit before it becomes stuck.

I work to loosen the metal bit, manoeuvring it back and forward until I've got enough slack to allow me to sink it deeper into the pumpkin. It goes further in, right up to the plastic handle, but, worryingly, it still has not reached the hollow part inside.

I attempt to follow the black line I've drawn, but after a few seconds the knife snaps in two. I am left holding the plastic handle with just a short bit of metal protruding.

The rest of the blade remains embedded deep inside the pumpkin. I decide to leave it there, rather than conjure any unlikely plot or plan to engineer its removal.

I stare for some time at the huge vegetable (or fruit?). Shorn of my trusty blade, I have to come up with an alternative method of carving. It is true that there is an array of very sharp knifes in my kitchen, but I'm not keen on the prospect of using any of them.

A combination of the obvious toughness of the pumpkin hide, its irregular shape and my natural clumsiness means that it would be something close to miraculous if I was to complete that particular operation without knicking an artery or even losing a significant part of a limb.

I go to the shed outside. I remove an abundance of cobwebs as I search for what I know is there, but undisturbed in months. I haul the large black box containing my tools into the light. I brush the dust off and carry it to the house.

There is a drill inside the box. I've only used it on a handful of occasions and not recently. Despite this, I am surprised to find it still has enough charge to be workable. I place the drill bit against one of the black lines I have drawn and pull the trigger.

After a moment of resistance the bit slides into the pumpkin. I take it out, move a centimetre to the right and do it again. I do this over and over, following the lines I've drawn around the top of the squash and then along the outline of the eyes, nose and mouth.

When I'm done, the drill is slimy and covered with pumpkin flesh. I set it aside and pull a small hand saw from the black box. The tool has not been properly sharp in a long time, but it is easy to cut lines which join together all the holes created by the drill.

Soon, the exterior of the pumpkin is carved into something which resembles a face and I'm not missing any digits. I'm happy to have got this far, but further challenges remain. I'm at home on my own. It took three of us to haul the giant pumpkin onto the table. How will I get it to the front doorstep on my own?

It was several months ago that my Da told me that his allotment pumpkins seemed to be growing larger than usual this year. I didn’t pay much attention at first. After all, how big can a pumpkin really be?

It was only when I visited my Da's house a few weeks ago that I saw their full magnificence and terror. Some of the pumpkins were small, some average size, but a few were freakishly large, like something unnatural from a Roald Dahl story.

The abnormal size was matched by weight. The largest weighed more than six stone.

Lifting them was like a challenge from a strong man contest, with the giant pumpkins slowly rolled up the legs towards the stomach, like they were mighty, ancient boulders.

A wheelbarrow was deployed to transport one of the giants in the direction of my car, from where my Da and I lifted it.

I don't have a large car and the pumpkin filled the boot almost entirely.

It took the combined efforts of my wife, son and me to transfer it onto the old table in my house, which creaked under the substantial weight.

After it was carved and hollowed, I gasped and groaned as I lifted it alone to the front doorstep. The long term impact of that action on my health is yet to be determined.

I posted some pictures of the pumpkin on my social media accounts. There was quite a reaction. A number of people asked why it was so large.

Had it been given a feed to aid growth? Had it been inflated with water? Other than saying the warmer weather this year might be a factor, I didn't know what to say. It was just a giant pumpkin grown by my Da.

It is Halloween night and the torrential rain has eased enough so that the children can dress up and go around the doors. My own son is away out with friends.

The days of me standing behind him as he nervously knocked on doors and whispered 'trick or treat' are gone.

But the steady stream of young children knocking on our door wanting sweets and chocolate is a decent second prize.

I have filled a large dish with goodies and encourage the kids to help themselves.

The giant pumpkin is almost as much of attraction as the confectionery and is remarked upon often.

One little boy, in a mask, stares at it.

“That's not a real pumpkin mister?" he says sceptically.

“Yes, it certainly is,” I respond. “Nah...no way,” he says, shaking his head as he goes off towards the next door.